Insert Working Title Here
by Emmie Monster
Summary: The worst fanfiction, ever. Sequel to YTG? Terrance and Phillip get married, but that's just a subplot. It seems that Cartman, Damien, and the world are conspiring to keep two couples apart. Oh, and Big Gay Al is a wedding planner. Hilarity ensues.
1. Love In All Thy Sons Command

Mandatory Long Ass Author's Note/Disclaimer.

Well, hey! Look at that! She wrote another South Park fanfiction.

This is the sequel to my other fic, "Are You There, God? Its Us Stan and Kyle…and We HATE you!", but you don't really need to read one or the other. Because I hate sequels so, so very much. I just wanted to write Terrance and Phillip in too.

Just a couple of things to be warned about.

While I still maintain this is a humor fic (although, once again, I doubt this will be all that funny to anyone else), this is a lot more, well…serious and dramatic than YTG?. I wanted to try another challenge, and see if I could take the elements of YTG? That made it work, and make it more of a drama. If you're not into that, fine, you don't have to read it. As I said with YTG, I'm doing this for me, so that I can be relieved from stress. I wanted to try writing something more similar to my usual style, only…not. Yeah, basically, they are all in that stage of their relationships when they find out that relationships are kind of tough and shit happens, but if you really like the person and you are willing to deal with their drama on top of yours, then you've got something good.

As another warning, this is a slash fic. It contains all of the pairings seen in YTG, only with a bit less Cartman/Wendy (which makes me incredibly sad, I just couldn't work it into the fic as much as I wanted to. I'm sorry).

I'm posting the first two chapters for now, just to get a feel. This isn't necessarily a commitment. I'm warning you! Lol.

Lastly, I don't own South Park, that is the duty of Matt and Trey. I'm too much of a hippie. Yay!

-Sid out.

Insert Working Title Here

A fanfiction by Sidra G., AKA Will Sing For Monies

Like most aspects of their relationship, it had all started out as a joke of sorts.

It was during the Great Canadian-U.S. War of 1989 that the famed Terrance and Phillip, who had each lead rather full and interesting lives up until this event and would have continued to do so even had it not occurred, were taken as prisoners of war with the threat of execution imminent.

All thanks to goddamn Conan O'Brian, but that's an entirely different story that has already been copy-written.

During a pause in their impassioned reprise of their hit, chart topping single "Uncle Fucka'" Terrance turned to Phillip, and stated very matter-of-factly that death was just about the only thing they hadn't been through together.

Phillip did not need even a second to consider this statement before affirming its truth with an enthused, yet nostalgic, "We sure have, buddy."

"And, you know, as of now it seems highly likely that we will die together, too. So really, we've just about seen and done it all." Terrance continued, as if he hadn't really heard Phillip.

"I suppose it's highly appropriate that we die together, then." Phillip said. Terrance nodded, in an almost non-characteristically serious way, but not quite because he was sort of grinning like a maniac.

"Fun times." They said in unison.

Silence.

Then.

"UNCLE FUCKAAAAAA'!" They sang, and giggled uproariously.

"You know, fuck face," Phillip said, allowing Terrance to giggle again, "I don't think I can really picture any other way. Being without you, I mean. Remember that one time? When we jay-walked down Avenue A in New York?"

"You mean when we taught the slope intercept form to school children by stealing two dollars from that one hobo we met, and then increased our profit and stole three dollars from every hobo we met after that?"

"Yeah. That was great."

Silence again.

Phillip could almost feel the ending note of their song rising in his throat again, when Terrance began to approach an idea that had been forming in his mind, obviously for a long time now, this time speaking in a truly uncharacteristic tone, something that suggested that he was picking his words very carefully, but with little idea of how to go about presenting the issue.

"So, buddy…say in about eight or so years, assuming that I don't get remarried of course, (He ignored Phillip's interjection of "Hey! Fuck you, buddy! Thanks for assuming I won't be married at all!"), and assuming we live through this (Phillip interjected once again to say, "Yes, because it's more likely you'll be married again in eight years than be dead tomorrow!")…should we maybe try to make it, you know, official? Or something?"

Once again, there was silence, but unlike the other two times, this one was a very long, awkward silence. Because Terrance and Phillip were fans of oxymorons, they would later describe it as deafening.

Luckily enough, Terrance and Phillip, having gone through everything but dying together, and simply being the people they were, it wasn't an embarrassing silence. It just was.

Finally, Phillip spoke.

"You mean like, get married?"

"I guess."

"Sure, buddy."

And they grinned at each other for a second, before once again launching into song.

_Shut your fucking face Uncle Fucka'…_

Phillip didn't really take the engagement seriously, until Sheila Broflovski shot and killed Terrance before his eyes, and his own last moments were filled with sheer terror, because he didn't quite realize that his own life was over and instead spent those final seconds fretting over how, exactly, any kind of life could exist for him without Terrance.


	2. Not that Funny, Apparently

Despite throwing caution to the wind on prom night, they were generally very careful.

Just so that everything was less confusing, they still maintained that they were Super Best Friends, because it was just catchier than "Best Friends Who Are Head Over Heels for Each Other and Make Out (Among Other Kinds of Interesting and Experimental Activities) Whenever An Opportune Private Moment Arises", and really, they were still essentially Super Best Friends; they just happened to technically be romantically involved as well. And the Understatement of the Year Award Goes to…

The second to to last day of finals, and thus the school semester found Kyle, who had just finished his last final (Advanced Placement "Modern World History", which would more accurately be named "Long, In-Depth, Philosophical, Political, and Socioeconomic Debates and Discussions Which the Stringy Jewish Kid in the Corner Always Wins"), gracing the crook between Stan's neck and shoulder with his lips and his teeth, as the latter mentioned boy (who had finished his second final, "United States Government for Dummies, Oh, Sorry, We Meant Normal People") busied himself with the buckle of the former's pants, and the area of skin just underneath the hem of his shirt.

They temporarily forgot where they were, once again lost in their little world of Stan and Kyle, but where unhappily reminded when, after various other activities involving the realization of Kyle's talent for undoing pants flies with his teeth, they had to take a quick break for Stan to retrieve his inhaler.

"Funny," Kyle said with a smirk, once Stan's respiratory system had restarted, "I guess I do take your breath away, after all."

"That's _not_ funny. That's not even in the same zip code as funny." Stan retorted, giving Kyle a crooked smile. And then their eyes met, again, and neither of them were sure whose lips had been conquered by whose, but they figured it wasn't really that important so long as the other could be shirtless in a flat nanosecond, which didn't quite work that well because both were trying to take the other's shirt off and their elbows kept getting in the way, and then Kyle remembered that they were in the school's boy's restroom and there was no where to really temporarily dispose of the aforementioned garment (because really, for his and Stan's sake, bathroom floors are just _gross_), so they had to settle on something else.

They were lucky that this something else entailed Stan deciding he wanted to "undo zippers with his teeth", too, and Kyle was more than happy to oblige in letting him.

Fun times, really.

When they eventually did leave school grounds, it was hand in hand, and while they were trying to be quiet in respect for The Dead (or any other student who happened to be taking final exams at this time), they were sort of having too much trouble deciding if they were laughing like idiots or maniacs for their attempts to be effective.

They ran into Kenny, who was on his way to his make-up Literature exam, the original he had missed due to a rather tragic accident involving a volley-ball net and an inconveniently placed dead fish, which, according to him Wasn't Funny At All.

Kenny happened to look very shaken up, and kept glancing over his shoulder, as he whispered a request to meet him in two hours at Shakey's, although they needed to have him repeat this about three times before it even sounded half-way coherent. Because, after all, he was whispering beneath his parka despite the summery weather. And they weren't sure, but he may have been stuttering.

Stan and Kyle were rather concerned at this behavior; this just wasn't _like_ Kenny. He hadn't made a single insinuation, even though they were holding hands, were rather mussed, red-faced, and sweaty, and just slightly out of breath.

So, to kill time, Stan and Kyle went off to throw ice-cubes at cars, because they were just that kind of couple.


	3. Not Quite What You Expect

Sheila Broflovski stared, ashen faced at the television screen.

When she had received a video-tape in the mail, addressed to her, with a simple note, (typed, double spaced, Times New Roman size Twelve font), explaining that it would be best that she see it, of course she had been suspicious. That had been three days ago, and she had tried to ignore it after determining that it had no explosive qualities, would not exude a toxic chemical or gas, was not laced with anthrax, SARS, Small Pox, Bird Flu, or AIDES, wasn't the infamous video tape advertised in _The Ring_/_Ringu_ (although how she was able to determine this without watching the tape, the world may never know), and finally, burying it in the back yard, because, after all, if it wasn't something potentially lethal that she could raise hell and lower heaven over, why should she be interested? However, it had been prodding her in the back of her mind for three days, and finally she just couldn't take it anymore and had retrieved her shovel.

The one thing that she was not expecting to witness was her son lean in to kiss with his best friend.

There was nothing else on the tape, just her son, looking immensely pleased with himself, and smiling as his lips touched the other, slightly taller boy's.

She'd had her ideas about this kind of situation arising. It was just that she hadn't witnessed it before…and now that it was affirmed, at least in this case…what to do?

Like all Religions, Judaism was contradictory. It tended to shun homosexual _acts_, but accept and embrace homosexuals. Judaism didn't believe in Sin, just mistakes, and yet they lived facing their guilt and owning it. So really, it was all up to the individual to determine. It was just that, even though Sheila had been preparing for the situation, she hadn't been preparing for the moment when she would have to face it, and especially now that she had had to face it by witnessing…

She stood, and approached the VCR.

And was silent.

She pressed the eject button, and fingered the tape, staring at it as if trying to conjure images that could be more useful to her. What to do.

Silence. Numbness. Go through the motions.

Once she had dropped the tape, releasing it, but not to freedom, instead to the confines of the garbage can, it suddenly occurred to Sheila that for the first time in her life, she had absolutely nothing to say, and couldn't think of anything _to_ say either.

Authors Note: The drama starts here. Kind of.


	4. You Have Been Owned

Kyle and Stan could hear the shrieking voice of a young man two blocks away from Shakey's. It was the kind of shrieking that was omniscient, and almost biblical sounding, as if conjuring fire and brimstone.

Then they decided that they _really_ did not want to know, after all, and would have turned around and walked away, had it not been for the fact that Tweek and Craig were inconveniently airing out their dirty laundry in public directly behind them, making that area virtually impassable, and because both knew that being within a five foot radius of Tweek and Craig during one of their break-ups would result in them getting dragged into the midst of it, they decided that they would rather be involved in fire and brimstone because the misadventure probability rating was more in favour of what was ahead of them. New experiences over the old. Almost symbolic.

And so it was that they begrudgingly headed towards Shakey's as Craig's voice faded into the distance,

"You leave Stripes out of this!"

Followed by Tweek's.

"AHHH…I want out! I want out! The pressure!"

They almost missed Shakey's altogether, because when they arrived, all that remained was a single booth among a pile of smoldering debris and corpses, where Kenny and Bébé were being berated by an angry adolescent, who could have been one of the Goth kids, only somehow Kyle and Stan had the idea that they would have seen him a little too…enthused for their standards, assuming of course that one was allowed standards if one was a faggy Goth kid, oh, sorry, non-conformist. In any case, the dark haired young man was waving a wooden plank threateningly around, as his tears and eyeliner ran down his face. Kenny sat in the booth, holding hands with Bébé, and trying to ignore it as best he could, while Bébé happily sipped at one of the two straws of the chocolate milkshake that sat on the table.

"I can't believe you, Kenneth McCormick! You ripped out my heart! You ripped out my heart and fed it to rabid _ducks_!" The distraught youth screamed. Kenny looked as though he very much would have liked to not dignify this with a response, but after a moment of considering it, he apparently decided that he had something he would like to say more.

"Ok, first of all," Kenny addressed the boy, "That statement needs to be reversed. _You_ ripped out _my_ heart and fed it to rabid ducks. And I should know; that is not only a sick way to die, but that is a traumatizing image to have as the last look at the world before you depart. It never goes away, man! And I still have the scar."

"And what's second of all?" The boy asked, temporarily pausing in his rancor.

Kenny stared at him for a very long moment, before asking him to elaborate.

"You said first of all. When you say first of all, you have to have a statement or two to follow up with. It's the introduction to a list." The boy explained.

"You know, we could always try a threesome, if that would make you happy. There _is_ this neat trick with whips I've been dying to try out." Bébé suddenly mused, arching an eyebrow at the boy suggestively. Although Stan and Kyle had decided, for the sake of their sanities, that she was most likely joking, Kenny looked a little too enthusiastic for the boy's liking, evidently, based on how he calmly informed Kenny that Bébé was a filthy harlot and he only had Kenny's best interests and moral well being at heart, and then took a swing at Kenny with the wooden plank. Luckily, Kenny and Bébé ducked just in time. Or his aim was just that sucky. Or both.

It should be noted that he had evidently overlooked Kenny's other generally demoralizing habits, such as his progression toward chain smoker status, shop lifting, cutting class for the hell of it (usually resulting in hot wiring a random vehicle), and other such delinquency.

This suddenly became the essence of irritation to Bébé, and she stood up and advanced upon the boy, her hands on her shapely hips and her fight-face on.

"Back off and leave Kenny alone! Who do you think you are, coming in…er, coming _here_ and trying to kill someone because they aren't living their life how you want them to? Prince of Darkness or no, don't you dare kill my Kenny, you bastard! Go on! Shoo!" She said, even affecting the appropriate hand gesture. The boy suddenly looked very helpless and whimpered, just before he dropped the wooden plank and scurried off, his lower lip trembling. It was as if one minute he had been there, and the next he wasn't. Simple as that. Within that instant, the Shakey's was restored.

"Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here." Stan said when he and Kyle begrudgingly, and not really sure why because after witnessing that they definitely _did not want to know_, approached the booth.

"Oh. Hi guys!" Bébé said brightly, returning to her milkshake, as though it were a very normal thing to face off against a crazed _Bauhaus_ fan boy, who just happened to be the son of Satan, and was apparently trying to kill her boyfriend because of a seeming bizarre and frightening crush. Then again, this was probably very normal and expected when you were dating Kenny. Then again, this was very normal and expected when you lived in South Park, Colorado. Kenny was gazing at her with a shiny-eyed look of reinforced admiration and respect.

"What the hell was that?" Stan asked, making rather ridiculous looking gesture to the thin air.

"My baby verbally bitch-smacked the Spawn of Satan! I get a hot, nymphomaniac kick-ass girlfriend and phenomenal sex! God lets me win at life once in a while, after all! Woohoo!" Kenny exclaimed, at least that was what they assumed he was exclaiming, because the parka was tightened as much as it could be, as was his custom whenever he felt threatened.

"Thank you, sweetie." Bébé giggled and kissed him about where the tip of his nose would be if it weren't obscured by the parka.

That was why Kyle and Stan generally didn't hang around with Bébé and Kenny that much, and were thus in the dark about the recent happenings and apparent turmoil in Kenny's life. They were generally kick-ass, spirit-lifting people, and as a couple they still maintained this, but apparently in addition to being "That couple who has all the really hot, totally orgasmic sex all the time, and as if you totally didn't know already, go around boasting about it with absolutely no TMI filter" they had won over the title of "That couple who are impossibly sweet and nice and loving and call each other stupid, cavity inducing names, such as My Little Low Calorie Artificial Sweetener and My Sweet, Pulp Free Orange Juice, and feed each other or at least try to because Kenny's hood gets in the way sometimes", no contest. Then again, in the back of their minds Stan and Kyle knew that they could easily beat them if they tried, but because it was disgusting enough watching them, they decided to be kind to humanity although they knew humanity really didn't deserve that much kindness, and not compete. So basically, they were so totally jealous of Kenny and Bébé's ability to put that on public display that it burned.

"So, let me try to piece this together," Kyle said, using his ultra smart powers as he and Stan slid into the side of the booth opposite Bébé and Kenny, "Damien has a thing for Kenny, and is trying to drag him back to Hell to stay with him, and is now especially determined after having caught word of you two?"

Kenny didn't even need a nanosecond to confirm this. And insist that it really wasn't funny in the least. Apparently. Although Bébé seemed to think the part about Damien having a thing for her boyfriend was pretty funny, the rest was a somewhat comical set back so long as it was merely stated, and not acted upon.

"So, what do you need us for, anyway?" Stan implored.

Kenny sighed, and drummed his fingers on the table. He'd just been temporarily uplifted from a funk, only to have to enter a new one. Kenny loosened the drawstring of his parka, and slowly slid it from his face, signaling that he waned to make sure that what he had to say was completely understood.

"I don't suppose either of you have bothered to confirm to your parents the rumor that Super Best Friends enjoy doing the sideways Mambo together as frequently as possible?" he said.

In response, Stan and Kyle shifted round awkwardly, muttering a string of broken excuses, explanations, and four "dude"'s.

"That's a 'no'." Bébé chirped.

"Ah," Kenny said, and continued to drum his fingers on the table, "Because, well, I'm not sure, but Cartman's convinced that breaking you two up will get him his twenty dollars back from Wendy. And he figures, while Wendy is in Tibet doing that study-abroad shit for the summer, he'll have just enough time to ensure that one of you has a restraining order against the other, whether its by your own will or someone else's."

Stan and Kyle took this information in. They didn't even need to question it; after the Scott Tenorman incident, they were well aware of the lengths that Cartman was willing to go for money, and vindication for losing it. It just so happened that Wendy was planning a trip to Tibet for the entire summer, leaving once the school year was over, giving Cartman just enough time to perform his diabolical plot and cover his tracks so it didn't look suspicious to her. Although one wouldn't guess it based on outward appearance, Cartman cared very much about his girlfriend, and her opinion of him. It was just that this was not a hindrance to his character in the least, so if there was a way that he could extract vengeance and preserve his relationship with Wendy he would do it without a second thought.

"We need to flee the country." Kyle said decisively.

"Isn't that a bit extreme…wait, no, never mind, this _is_ Cartman we're dealing with. Here, this should help a bit…" Bébé said, and then grabbed her purse and started digging around until she pulled out a three hundred and one dollar bill. It should be noted that it was, indeed, a three hundred and one dollar bill; not three one hundred dollar bills and some loose change, and not three one hundred dollar bills and a one dollar bill. Bébé was, indeed giving them a three hundred and one dollar bill. Let's see how many more times we can say dollar bill in a paragraph…wait, lets not.

"Bébé, where did you get that?" Kenny asked in awe, gazing at it as if it were the holy grail of all money, which, given the situation, it most likely was.

"Oh. Well, when my boobs first started coming in, I was trying to get breast reduction surgery with two hundred and twelve dollars and nickels and a gold bracelet. It didn't work, the doctor was a chauvinist pig, but I wound up selling the bracelet anyway and got a three hundred and one dollar bill, and spent the other two hundred and twelve dollars and nickels on caramel apples." Bébé explained, although only part of this was actually relevant.

"…And I am so, so glad that doctor was a chauvinist pig. I should thank him someday." Kenny mused. Bébé smacked him playfully and giggled, while Stan and Kyle gave each other incredulous side-long glances, and Kyle pocketed the bill. Insert joke about Jews hoarding money here.

Authors Note: Yeah, I know, people are gonna hate me. But, dude, seriously? I kind of see Damien as a needy, desperate to please kid. Yeah, he has his bad ass moments, but he's still kind of a wuss! If you don't like my portrayal of him, well, ok! Cool! I admit, I probably over exaggerated and maybe stretched him a little too far. Its called humor. Google it.

Oh, and Bauhaus _rules_, and so does Bébé; two things that can never, ever be disproved.


	5. Yom Kippur

Having completed his last two finals, Stan was learning that overhead ceiling lamps can sometimes make really trippy shadows at noon thirty, when all useful information has been sucked out of your brain, channeled through a pencil, and neatly organized on a sheet of notebook paper, handed in for a final exam.

When he blinked, he saw spots of light, and watched them dance and flicker. And maybe they were some hue of electric green or maybe they were pink. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

And, as it turned out, it _was _actually rather funny.

Stan decided to stop bestowing eye-worship on his ceiling light, and closed his eyes, watching the light dancing light spots as best he could until they were gone.

He was far away, some place comfortable, between being awake and being asleep, and he was making a valiant attempt to think.

He and Kyle had decided that they were going to Telluride in a couple of days, because there was another music festival going on, and they thought it would be fun to throw things at the hippies, and maybe lie down in the street again. They'd stay for about a week, maybe more, just until the whole thing blew over, so they could go back to their normal lives…or about as normal as their lives got, anyway, and hopefully Cartman would have just gotten frustrated and/or bored with the whole idea and give up. Worse comes to worse, they could stage an elaborate break up, involving tears, bloodshed (most likely Kenny), and a five gallon tank filled with Mexican jumping beans, and then stage an even more elaborate reunion on the first day of school.

Because really, this was much, much more reasonable and simple than informing the Broflovskis that he harbored and acted upon perverse sexual lust for their son, as well as informing this fact to his own parents.

His father had freaked over Big Gay Al being his Mountain Scout Leader. Stan didn't even want to entertain the scenario where Kyle got down on one knee and asked Randy for Stan's hand in marriage, and confessed his undying love for him, as enjoyable and entertaining as the thought was.

Stan also dreaded the imminent day when he would have to kowtow to Sheila Broflovski, and say, "Mrs. Broflovski, your son and I have been Madly in Love TM and fucking like rabbits for quite some time and will continue to do so for quite some time, and let me tell you, he's a screamer. Oh, and we aspire to some day own a llama farm.", although in a much more formal tone, perhaps even in Hebrew, because, after all, she was rather volatile. And yet, somehow Stan felt that she would be accepting of it. It was Mr. Broflovski he had absolutely no idea about.

But, if everything went according to plan, he wouldn't have to worry about that, at least for another a while. They weren't quite sure what they were going to be doing about College, considering Kyle was a freaking genius and would most likely be getting pushed towards some elite university, but somehow they were maintaining that they would find a way to stick around each other.

That's how it had always been, the two of them stuck together, and however it had happened, whether it was indirect luck or by dharma, they were happy, and more than open to the idea of being stuck together for all eternity, be it joined it Super Best Friendship or Holy Matrimony, assuming South Park maintained its Gay Marriage Laws. It didn't need to be official or anything, or really be called anything other than two best friends in complete love. So long as Stan could hold Kyle's hand, physically or symbolically, he was cool. As long as they wanted to just stand around and smell each other they were cool.

That was why they were still maintaining that they were Super Best Friends in the first place; labels were overrated. And technically, they hadn't really officially told each other that they loved each other, but they were in love all the same. In love and at peace, it had just sort of happened, somewhere along the way, be it luck or dharma. They didn't need all of the other stuff, they just needed each other.

Stan was so absorbed in his happy, half-asleep and contemplating his relationship with Kyle mode, that he only vaguely registered the sound of broken glass. He did, however, open his eyes just in time to watch Ike hurtle through the air, and ricochet off of the wall opposite the window that he had destroyed in his grand entrance into Stan's room, although he was fully intact and completely unscathed.

Stan and Ike stared at each other for a minute, registering the other's appearance. It was a major, oh-hey-,you kind of Moment. Then they heard footsteps bounding wildly up the stairs, coming up the hall…

"Hide me!" Ike whispered, puberty causing his voice to crack ever so slightly as he scrambled to find solace beneath Stan's bed.

Unfortunately, his legs were sticking out awkwardly when Kyle threw open the door to Stan's room, looking about as threatening as a skinny Jewish kid can.

"Gahh! Don't kick the adolescent!" Ike just about nearly squealed.

"_How_ many times, Ike? How many times have I told you, never, ever do anything Cartman asks of you! It only ends bad!" Kyle yelled.

"Oh, hey! Kyle! Come on in." Stan muttered under his breath, glancing on in confusion, deciding that he was best off as he was; completely out of the whole thing, despite the fact that the scenario was taking place in his bed room.

"But he paid us each twenty dollars!" Ike's voice could be heard, just slightly muffled.

"That only makes it worse!"

"I didn't know he was going to show the video tape to mom."

"Of course he was going to show the video tape to mom! Ike, how can you be such a genius, and yet be so, so incredibly…" Kyle finished his statement with a defeated sigh, and sank down onto the bed next to Stan.

There were a number of possible reasons why it was instinctive for Stan to grab hold of Kyle's hand, and for Kyle to lace his fingers around Stan's. Maybe it was because Stan knew something was up, and this something was obviously something big and possibly involved the fate of their relationship, an that Kyle just wanted to feel that no matter what was to come their _this_ was secure.

"What's up?" Stan whispered. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to know, didn't want to know, or already knew. Maybe all three.

Kyle laughed, but for the first time, the situation really _wasn't_ funny. To them, anyway.

"My parents. They know, Stan. They already knew, at least my mom did. Cartman got to them, by apparently getting Ike to kiss Filmore on camera, which has somehow convinced my parents, or at least my father who, unlike my mother, has maintained his ability to not just speak but to yell, to finally confront me about our scandalous love affair, described in excruciating, and partly fabricated I'm sure, detail in a four page letter citing specific dates. I just finished chasing Ike down, but just before I left the house, my dad was informing me how they are plotting an intervention, once they can get a hold of your parents." Kyle informed him, his voice eerily calm.

"Bail?" Stan asked quietly. Only one possible solution.

"Bail." Kyle concurred.

"To Telluride?" Stan asked, standing and pulling Kyle with him.

"I think we have to make it a bit more drastic. Let's see if we can get to Canada."

Ike, whose presence they had forgotten, peeked out from under the bed.

"Can I come, too? I doubt I'll ever hear the end of it as it is, and if you two up and disappear, it'll just get worse for me." He pleaded.

"Ike, do you really want to watch us make out on the entire plane ride?" Stan asked.

Ike thought this over for a minute.

"It would be totally hot." He said, with a devilish grin.

Kyle somehow managed to drop kick Ike out of the same window he had crashed through only minutes before, an act which Stan, although witnessing the act had no idea how it was even managed.

Authors Note:

A note on the chapter title:

Yom Kippur is the Jewish holiday, acting as the day of atonement. Basically, you "atone" for your mistakes, anything you wish to be forgiven for, or need to acknowledge to yourself from events in the past year, following the new year celebration Rosh Hashanah. Yom Kippur is the holiest of all the Jewish holiday, and is commenced with a twenty-five long hour fast, and fastidious prayer, making it the worst holiday. Ever. (This is a Joke. I've only celebrated Yom Kippur once, though, lol)

I chose the title because, as the day of atonement, I feel that the events in this chapter have to deal with the "shit hitting the fan" so to speak. Although Kyle and Stan don't actually "atone" (and have no need to, in my opinion), they are faced with some issues that their relationship brings up. Yes, I know I dealt with it very rushed, but I promise I will emphasize it in the next chapter, giving it more weight. The pacing of the events is actually supposed to be very rushed, a very spur of the moment planning.

And that is about as dramatic as I'm gonna get. Sorry to those of you who totally couldn't stomach all the fluff. The next chapter will be much more comedic, I promise.

Oh, and the previous chapters have been edited, grammar mistakes corrected, because I suck at grammar but am trying to get better.

On that note, there will not be another update for at least two weeks. Details are in my journal on DeviantArt. Keep writing, out there! I have so much to look forward to from the South Park fandom when I get back! Love you guys!


	6. When You Hear Van Morrison Its All Good

Kyle awarded Stan with Incredulous Glance Number Twelve Hundred for The Day just before stating,

"You _do_ realize that I was joking when I suggested Canada, right?"

Stan shifted his hands proudly, and thus adjusting the sign he was wielding. It was made out of pink construction paper with particularly obnoxious looking green handwriting upon it that read, "To Canada or Bust!"

"Ask and you shall receive. Raise your thumb out higher." Stan replied.

Kyle went for Number Thirteen Hundred, but did as he was told anyway, because although arguing with crazy people never really had resulted well for him, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he happened to harbor quite a bit of affection for this particular crazy person, he would have argued. And induced some act of physical violence.

That's when a thought hit him.

"Wait a minute, Cartman is doing all of this for twenty dollars." He said.

"That's right." Stan replied.

"And he paid my brother and Fillmore twenty dollars."

"Yes."

Kyle was about to continue on this thought, and how it lacked any kind of logic at all, before he remembered that, because of the way things work in the space of existence in the universe occupied by the small town of South Park, Colorado, if there was such a thing as logic, it existed only to be mocked, and so he shut up. Which was incredibly rare.

Just after creating the aforementioned signs, Stan took the liberty of informing his family that they were planning to hijack a random vehicle with skills they had learned through osmosis thanks to Kenny, driving it without their licenses, to a random hotel, where they would have unsafe sex with each other and various anonymous partners thus resulting in prostituting themselves for cocaine, getting back in the car, and drive off of a cliff in flames. All of this was said without pausing to bat an eyelash. Or breathe. It was a miracle he hadn't had an asthma attack.

Shelly, who in a forgotten plot device was home from college for the summer, had screamed at him from the living room to shut up so that she could watch her show, Sharon was distracted by the ringing phone and said, "Ok, you two kids have fun now." Randy had blinked at them confusedly for a moment and then said, "Wait, _what_?" just as Stan and Kyle made a dramatic exit from the house, slamming the door behind them. (Which Kyle had commented that it really wasn't necessary, to which Stan insisted that it was, why couldn't he see? It was!)

They had been standing out on the edge of town for about half an hour, when a shiny, lavender convertible blaring a Van Morrison tune came to a stop before them, and Big Gay Al blinked up at the couple.

"Well, hello there silly buns! Long time no see!" He crooned, in that lilting way of his.

"Kyle! Oh my God it's Big Gay Al! And Van Morrison is playing! That means that everything _is_ going to be all right!" Stan cried, and dropped his sign so that he could enthusiastically embrace his…super best friend.

Kyle opened his mouth like he was about to say something, and then shut it. Apparently, the amount of witty and/or sarcastic retorts stored in his brain had caused the delicate system to overload and temporarily crash.

Reboot reboot reboot BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH.

He had just enough system protocol stored away that he was able to smack himself in the face and restore himself before any valuable memory or hardware was lost or erased.

Years later, Kyle would remember it as the day that he had decided that he was spending a little too much time honing his "l33t haxxor skillz"

"So, you two are trying to get to Canada?" Big Gay Al said, gesturing to the abandoned sign.

"As a matter of fact." Kyle said with a shrug.

"…You aren't planning on getting _married_ are you? Because you both know that after how brave you were all those years ago, you are perfectly capable of getting married here. Oh! No never mind! I'm putting horrible ideas in your heads! Kids, as a former scout master, I feel it is my duty to inform you that marriage is an incredibly big step and it isn't something you just rush into, that it is a commitment that…"

"No! Nononono! We aren't getting married, we just need to get away for a bit," Stan said. Kyle had barely begun to affirm this, when Stan grabbed his hand and continued, "We're waiting until after college, and we have enough money saved up to pursue our dreams of someday owning a llama farm."

Kyle, dumbfounded, wasn't sure if he should be more alarmed at how tightly Stan was gripping his hand, how serious he looked when he iterated this, or that Big Gay Al declared that "Oh Stanley, that is just so beautiful, and so, so very _super_!" and had had to fish out a lacey handkerchief, with which he used to dab at his eyes.

"I hate this town. So much." Kyle grumbled under his breath.

"It just so happens that I myself am on my way to Canada. My assistance as a wedding planner has been requested." Big Gay Al said, once he had regained his composure, with a flourish that was only possible to achieve if you happened to be…well, Big Gay Al. Which he was, I don't think I have to point out to you.

"…You're a wedding planner, too?" Kyle asked, trying to mask his incredulity with polite concern.

"Well, no, but the clients said they wanted the gayest wedding possible, and it turns out that the first wedding planner couldn't handle the pure sweetness of their love for one another and went into a diabetic coma within seconds of signing on, the second turned out to be a crab person, the third turned out to be Saddam Hussein, and now they are barely a few days away from the ceremony and have no idea about flower arrangements or that saffron clashes so horribly with forest green, I mean really was that a joke? And I offered to help out, I mean, I just felt so bad about what almost happened to them, I mean I was promoting it, so here we are. I was conducting a few technical details over the phone, but so close to the date I figure I may as well drive up anyway."

"…Would you mind giving us a lift? We have some money on us, we could chip in for gas money and such, and I think we have enough to at least pay for a couple of nights in a motel so after we get across the border we could just part ways there." Kyle implored.

Big Gay Al looked incredibly torn. The only way he could have looked more torn is if he were split into two pieces, and was _literally_ torn.

"Well, I'd like to boys, I really would, I mean, Slave is busy with the National S&M Convention and this was so last minute I told him it was fine if he went while I was gone since he'd been planning for _so_ long and I would like some company, I mean you kids are just so _super_…but you just can't up and run away from your troubles! I don't want to get involved, let alone promote something…" Big Gay Al began, when Stan clasped his hands together, and stared wide-eyed at Big Gay Al.

"Oh, please Big Gay Al! Me and Kyle, we're just a couple of mixed up kids in love in this big mixed up world and everyone around us has just been giving us hell and you know how it is when you need to just get away, clear your head. We just need a chance, he and I! And if you could give us just this one chance it would be so, so incredibly _super_ of you!"

Big Gay Al stared at Stan, who had mastered the art of being incredibly gay with such proficiency that even Big Gay Al, the most authentically gay man of all time, thought he passed.

"You have a _this_, don't you?"

They nodded, and Big Gay Al decided that they looked a little too serious for the situation.

"Get in, you scallywags." He said with a sigh, and unlocked the back doors.

An hour later, Big Gay Al threatened to pull the car over and make them get out and walk if they didn't stop grinning like that because it was getting very, _very_ creepy.


	7. All Talk and No Action Except Bitch Slap

Bébé grinned at the anti-Christ as he continued to struggle.

"Ooh, I've caught me an anti-Christ! What should I do with him now?" She sang gleefully.

"You keep a fire-proof net in your _room_? What kind of sick freak are you?" Damien yelled.

"Hey, it's for when Kenny comes over. You have no idea how much it spoils the mood when a psycho, axe-wielding, fire-breathing murderer from Timbuktu breaks in and tries to kill your boyfriend in the middle of foreplay or sex! And succeeds! Six times, dude!" She said, and then went back to filing her nails.

"Well, of course I wouldn't know. Bitch." Damien said.

"You know Damien, killing me won't win you any points with Kenny. If anything, he'll just hate you for it. Besides, it's not like we won't still rendezvous if I wind up dead."

Damien's lower lip trembled again. He had promised himself that he wasn't going to cry this time, and she wasn't even being mean about it really. She was just being honest, which made it all the more worse, because he knew that she was right. He told her this, sullenly, and then quoted some emo song lyric, which, as most emo songs do, was completely irrelevant and made absolutely no sense.

Bébé glanced at him with sympathy for a moment.

"Actually, I was hoping we could talk. What if I did something for you? What if I set you up with someone?" She suggested.

Damien brightened for a moment, but promptly resigned himself again.

"There's no one else like him!" He said, and wilted. Bébé giggled a little, but covered it up with a sudden coughing fit.

"Actually, I do have one guy in mind, and from what I've judged, you have a thing for indestructible blonde guys who have remarkably sucky, yet somehow cruelly amusing, things happen to them."

"…I'm listening…"

"So, what you're saying is that you want me to go out on a romantic date with Damien, hopefully resulting in a long, happy relationship?" Pip asked.

Bébé stared at him.

"Nooo, I haven't said anything yet. I just got here. But, please?" She said. Pip looked up at her, and smiled charmingly.

"No."

"No? Aw, come on, Pip! I said please! When did you go and grow a back bone?" Bébé barked to the British boy in a voice that, had it been any other town, would have gotten her kicked out of the library for sure.

"I'm terribly sorry, Bébé," He replied, although he really didn't look sorry at all, not that Bébé could really blame him, "But you know that I have a girlfriend."

"You mean Estella? The girl who came to visit you last year just to inform you of how plebian and worthless you are to her? Along with some rather insulting remarks about your genitalia? And then went and hit on Stan just to make you angry, and wound up getting bitch smacked by Kyle? You deserve better than that, Pip!" Bébé said, trying desperately to keep a straight face. Really, it had been quite amusing.

"…You, who made a game out of trying to spit in my eye through out elementary school, do realize that you are presenting me with Damien, who the one time I hung out with turned me into a fire cracker in order to become popular, as my alternative?" He responded.

"Yes, but," Bébé began, desperately wracking her brain for Damien's redeeming qualities, until she thought up a quick fib, "He was young! How do you think he was supposed to cope with his burning passion for you? It's the British thing. You totally work it."

Pip drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table for a long time.

"If I do this for you, hypothetically speaking of course, what's in it for me?" He asked, haltingly.

"Well, if you play your cards right, you could wind up co-ruling hell."

Pip then jumped up on the table and did a little jig, while crying a series of stereotypically British exclamations of joy. Bébé, enjoying the fruition of her planning, was very glad to have proof that it always was the nice ones who spazzed at the promise of absolute power.

And, because of the way things work in South Park, Pip's celebratory moment was spoiled when the librarian drop-kicked him out of a window to make him shut up.

Later that evening, Pip arrived at Bébé's house, carrying a bouquet of roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolate. Bébé presented him with Damien, who she had taken it upon herself to clothe in a decent polo shirt, get rid of all the crappy eyeliner that he had taken to smearing all over his eyelids, and slick back his hair. He was biting his lower lip and glowering, but almost burst into tears of joy when he accepted Pip's gifts, although Bébé was very well aware that they were actually supposed to be peace offerings. Once they had departed for a cheesy, candlelit dinner, she beamed and went to fetch another ice-pack for her left cheek; Damien may have been a total wussy emo kid in girl pants, but he could bitch smack a ho into last week when his eye make-up was threatened…although that isn't really much of a testament to his masculinity, actually.

Author's Note:

DOUBLE POST FOR THE WIN FOOL. Although I cheated, because these two chapters are basically just all dialogue, which I hate, but whatcha gonna do, huh?

Next chapter, I am much happier to work on, because we get to pick back up on the CartmanxWendy subplot, which makes me very happy because as much as I totally love the pairing, its harder for me to write them. But I have some very good ideas. Although all of my ideas tend to be "no good, very bad, terrible, horrible" ideas.

In other news, I made a really stupid two page South Park fancomic, based on music from Avenue Q. Check it. Its pretty half-assed and poorly drawn, but I had fun making it.

Page One: http/ Two: http/ 


	8. Analyticals Can Be Fangirls, Too

In a totally and completely cliché turn of events, Wendy made her grand reentrance by kicking down Cartman's front door.

Cartman, who had been lounging dispassionately on his couch as Terrance and Phillip played on the television in the background, was about to scream to his mother to answer it, when, with an almost feral growl, Wendy tackled him. Despite being only roughly a fifth of his size, she was able to pin him against the couch cushions as he gazed up at her in sheer panic. Her eyes were obscured by her dark bangs, but her mouth was turned up at the corners and he could have sworn that in the five days that she had been away she had grown fangs.

Cartman was about to start making excuses for his behavior, just in case he still had some way of convincing her not to murder him and prop his carcass on the wall of her living room to tell future suitors that he was the last man to do her wrong and attempt to steal back twenty dollars when she started to attack him with savage kisses.

"I missed you so much!" She gushed, or at least it can be assumed she was saying as much. She made a mental note to send a thank you note to the Tibetan mountain village kids. Leave it to primitive, screaming terrors to make you fully appreciate the people you've left behind.

Cartman just about pulled a Kenny and died of shock on the spot, but went with it. Because after all, he did have a pretty sweet deal going, right?

That was, to say, until she pulled away and stared at him intently.

"Now that that's out of the way, mind explaining to me why the moment I stepped on the plane to leave for Tibet, I got an incredibly ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach that has yet to disperse?" She asked. Cartman did his best to feign innocence.

"Can't you take, I don't know, midol for that or something?"

"Cartman!" She shrieked, and smacked him.

He then decided that there was no way out of it; he had to tell Wendy the truth.

Cartman then launched into a detailed account of how the Loch Ness monster had decided to increase its profit to twenty dollars, the best way to do that was to possess him, thus trying to break up Stan and Kyle. He somehow related this all to being the Crab People's fault, as their elaborate plan to combine the local radio station tower, a tropical fruit punch drink, and Dr. Phil, could somehow be recognized by sweeping in and usurping the situation to their benefit.

Wendy stared at him.

"So, you're saying that in an attempt to get Kyle's parents to break up he and Stan, you paid of Kyle's little brother to-"

"Yes, alright? Fine. That's what I did, and now they've been on the lam for a day or two. But…God, Wendy, can you really blame me?" Cartman yelled.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I can blame you, but it wasn't as if I hadn't been expecting it," Wendy said, and chuckled lightly as she stood and gestured for him to do the same, "Come on, you, we're gonna go track them down, then we'll talk about the money involved."

And with that, she turned back to the door frame, careful to step over the conquered door.

Cartman wasted about five seconds to shock, before jumping up from the couch, after Wendy, who was already halfway down the walkway.

"You aren't breaking up?" He called from the porch, hurrying after her. Wendy glanced back at him, curiously.

"Why, do you want to break up?" She asked mildly.

"No," He insisted, a little too quickly. It was just that he'd assume that any girl would dump a guy if they found out he was conspiring to weedle twenty dollars out of them. Then again, thinking about it, Cartman remembered that Wendy was fiercely intelligent, and therefore knew a good thing when she had it, and she had him, and Cartman was pretty damn awesome if he dared say so himself.

"Well, come on." Wendy said, and then grabbed his hand in hers and led him off down the street in search of leads.

Given that she was just as fiercely competitive as she was intelligent, Wendy had always known that she'd never feel quite satisfied with anyone who couldn't keep her on her toes, or who she couldn't return the favor for. And, just the fact that it was Cartman, who had something endearing about him, being so corrupted he was lovable, was icing on the cake for her. He made her happy, and she couldn't explain it but gave up trying long ago. So, as long as he stayed who he was, she wasn't about to let him go. Besides, the twenty dollar bet had become entertaining to her, watching him jump through hoops for something indirectly having to do with her attention.

They logically decided that Ike was the person most likely to know where Stan and Kyle had headed, and thus went off to Kyle's house, where Sheila and Gerald were located in the living room, drinking coffee with Sharon, Randy, and Mrs. Garrison, who had most likely just shown up for the free food. The window was open, and just as Wendy began launching small rocks at Ike's window, they distinctively heard Mrs. Garrison say, "I remember back when they were in third grade, and I first tried to separate their desks. Stan kicked me…Kyle bit me…"

Cartman scowled, remembering that.

"God, why don't those two just wear one really big shirt, they're already practically attached?"

Wendy gave him a single, pointed glance.

Somehow, perhaps judging by the light smile she adopted when she returned to her attempt to captivate Ike's attention, Cartman guesses that she actually agreed quite heavily.

They're soul mates like that.


	9. Domestic Martyrdom, Whoa

The first bout of food poisoning hit Stan on the Capilano Suspension bridge, which they had stopped at because it was, after all, an opportune reason for getting out of the car and stretching their legs, and Big Gay Al had promised Mr. Slave (For reasons that Stan and Kyle insisted that they be left in the dark about) he would bring home a bottle of maple syrup, having heard good things about the brands stocked in this particular gift shop. They were still several hours away from Big Gay Al's intended destination, but they figured they would go with it; after all, they had at least gotten to Canada.

Stan hadn't been looking so great for a while, although his behavior had been a little off all day, but the food poisoning went and manifested itself when he and Kyle had gotten to the center of the swinging bridge, so Kyle was rather lucky that Stan was too preoccupied vomiting over the side of the bridge and into the beautiful, rushing ravine below to kill him for jumping on the bridge despite Stan's protests.

Big Gay Al, upon hearing of this, immediately insisted that they notify their parents, or at least take him to the hospital where they would be sure to notify his parents, so Stan had grabbed Kyle's hand and taken off running about as fast as an asthmatic kid worn down by food poisoning on an already generally weak stomach can. Unfortunately, in addition to being asthmatic and plagued with food poisoning on an already generally weak stomach, he was also feverish and disoriented and had wound up jumping over the edge of the suspension bridge, dragging Kyle with him.

They were just lucky that Brian Boitano arrived just in time to rescue them from certain death, or at least getting super soaked.

Because this required Brian Boitano to be in proximity with Big Gay Al, the awesomeness of both individuals caused the Space/Time Continuum to rip temporarily, and when it repaired itself, Brian Boitano, Big Gay Al, Kyle, and Stan, found themselves exactly where Big Gay Al (And Brian Boitano, it turns out) had been hoping to arrive; the center of Terrance and Phillip's wedding rehearsal.

Go figure.

"Hey, buddies!" Terrance called to the group, as though it was a perfectly normal occurrence for his wedding planner, Brian Boitano, and half of their most loyal fans to suddenly materialize into the middle of his wedding rehearsal.

The scenario could have gone much smoother, however, had Stan not vomited on Phillip's shoes, although he apologized profusely.

Big Gay Al finally relented and decided that it any further attempts on his part to do the sane, rational, and considerate thing and return Kyle and Stan home would only be in vain and most likely have results with completely insane, illogical, and insensitive happenings, and allowed Terrance and Phillip to offer the sick boy the guest room in their home (because, after all, they really were pretty nice guys, loving puppies and hating mean things and all, however "vulgar" and "immature" their sense of humor was regarded).

And so it was that Kyle, after insisting to Terrance and Phillip that it really was more than ok that he share the room with Stan even if there was only one bed available (resulting in him screaming, "WE HAVE A _THIS_, OK!", which of course the Canadian duo completely understood, encouraged, and tried as hard as they could not to make jokes about, of course meaning that they wound up snickering at every double entendre within the ensuing dialogue), spent the rest of the day sitting up and offering to hold Stan's hair back for him or something while he threw up, which as much as Stan appreciated (or at least tried to), was quite unnecessary because he had short hair.

As Stan wandered back into the guest room from the bathroom, after finally puking up stomach acid thus signaling that his system had succeeded in ridding itself of anything causing his ailment, looking rather dazed, he noticed Kyle sitting on the bed, flipping through a seven page book entitled _Teh Novel_, and flopped down on the bed with him, strategically placing his head in Kyle's lap.

"Hey!" Kyle cried in surprise, but made no move to try and escape, and gladly allowed himself to be clung to, as Stan breathed a heavy sigh of satisfaction.

There was something incredibly domestic about it, the act and the situation.

They hadn't really needed to be reminded of why they were here, why they were doing this, but if they did, this moment was all they would have. Liken to embracing in the middle of the street, preparing to be killed and planning a romantic horror film about it. Just sitting there in the kind of intimacy that they could only imagine with each other.

Kyle gave Stan's hand a squeeze, and they smiled lazily, watching from the window as Brian Boitano practiced his ceremonial speech, or at least tried to; like everything else, Terrance and Phillip kept up their gratuitous demonstration of farting and off-colour remarks through out the whole thing, making it impossible to take the whole thing serious. But they looked so amazingly happy about it, delays, and hassle, and clashing saffron with forest green and all. It just seemed worth it.

In a very lucid moment, Kyle found himself musing aloud, although he couldn't be sure that he was actually speaking, because it was all so soft it was almost intangible.

"I think…I _do_ want to marry you someday, Stan. Maybe. If it's necessary. I think that llama farm idea sounds great, too. So long as we can raise genetically engineered pot-bellied elephants, too. I'll even let you name one Gorack. As long as I get to name another one Steve."

Stan made a small grunt of acknowledgement, just before he drifted off into sleep and started to snore loudly.

Kyle grumbled to himself, and then looked back to the window, and almost had a panic attack on the spot, seeing his inspiring situation about to be torn apart.

Or shot up, given that it was Scott, brandishing a gun.

Kyle jumped up from the bed, rudely awakening Stan in the process, although he didn't stop to enlighten him and high-tailed it out the door.

He'd done it before, so may years ago…he'd do it again. And maybe if he could cause a distraction like before, Brian Boitano could at least be able to do something, because, after all, he was just that hardcore.

"Why, Scott? Why are you doing this, you dick?" Phillip was yelling.

"Simple. I'm homophobic!" Scott retorted.

"I was right! You owe me twenty dollars!" Phillip said to his fiancé, triumphantly.

"Never mind that right now, there's more important matters," Terrance reminded Phillip, "For instance, that Scott's trying to kill us because we're…wait a minute! We aren't gay!"

"You're in love and in a sexual relationship with a man and planning on marrying him tomorrow. How is that not gay?" Scott cried.

"It isn't because I'm not! I'm just a Phillipophile." Terrance said.

"And I'm a Terranceophile." Reminded Phillip.

Scott just stared at them incredulously.

It was at that moment that Kyle barreled across the lawn, and jumped in front of Terrance and Phillip, holding his arms outstretched in front of them, just as he had in defiance of his mother all those years ago, at the climax of the Great Canadian-U.S. War of 1989.

As Scott fired a single bullet in surprise, Kyle realized that there was one thing that he hadn't taken into consideration.

He was taller now.

Stan, from the doorway of the house, could only watch and scream with Kyle as he was brought down to his knees in painful agony

When Stan was finally able to uproot himself from his shock, he hurried to the side of his Super Best Friend, as Kyle sobbed melodramatically and cradled his ushanka, which had been ripped apart by forty seven bullets, even though only one shot had been fired.

"Oh my God, you killed the ushanka!" Stan cried at Scott, as Brian Boitano finagled the gun out of his grasp with a roundhouse kick, and handcuffed him all in one fell swoop.

"You bastard! You dick!" Kyle screamed, clutching at the felled pieces of green fabric and ear flaps.

"I am so sorry, dude; it really was the nicest hat I have ever known." Stan said empathetically, wrapping an arm around Kyle's shoulders consolingly.

"May we always hold its memory close to our hearts." Big Gay Al said, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief once again.

"Sleep well, little ushanka, the lord holds thee now." Phillip sniffled.

Terrance watched the scene, ashen faced.

"You people are freaks." Scott said, just as he was lead away by the Canadian police.

Brian Boitano said some fond words in the ushanka's memory.

Celine Dion later wrote and dedicated a hit, chart topping single to the ushanka.

Kyle's ushanka was just _that_ hardcore.


	10. A Medley

Because it was generally safer to enter through the window, thus avoiding the various trap-doors and Praise Thy Lord pamphlets that The Mole's mother generously doled out, Bébé did so and entered the spacious kitchen as The Mole, donned in a frilly pink apron, broke an egg into the mixing bowl, as he cheerfully hummed "One Day More!"

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" Bébé asked Kenny, whose had definite puppy eyes in anticipation, just before she joined him at the kitchen table.

He gazed up at her, tears of joy and appreciation for Christophe's Madd Baking Skillz leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"Why, its brownies!"

Meanwhile, in Canada, Stan's hand was nearly devoured by Kyle's Jew Fro, when he temporarily forgot his task of helping his…Super Best Friend…fish bullets out of the huge mass of curly red steel-wool that Kyle called hair, to note that it had started raining. Half of the pieces of the ushanka had been neatly placed in a shoe box, prepared for the memorial service they were planning in a few days, followed by the search for a kick-ass tailor. The other half were going to serve a very noble purpose indeed.

At that same moment, Sheila Broflovski got so sick of Mrs. Garrison's thinly veiled gay-bashing that she stood up and screamed, "MY SON IS PERFECT JUST AS HE IS AND I'M GLAD HE'S GAY, NOW MAYBE I'LL FINALLY HAVE SOMEONE TO HELP ME PICK OUT A DECENT COLOUR FOR THE KITCHEN, FOR THE LOVE OF ABRAHAM!" The force of her scream blew the sofa that Mrs. Garrison had been sitting on backwards, hitting and thus knocking out the wall, revealing Wendy and Cartman standing just outside. Wendy dropped the rock that she had been holding and tried to look innocent, which was hard to do because Cartman had let his rock fly in surprise.

But before the rock was to hit Gerald Broflovski and knock his head off, thus revealing that it wasn't actually Gerald, but the crab-person Cartman had hired to impersonate him, Bébé found herself trying hard not to giggle at the sight of The Mole in his apron, because, not only was it _frilly_ and _pink_, but given that Christophe was the only friend whose stomach lining was tough enough to allow him to hang around Kenny when she was there, Bébé knew full well that the clothes beneath the apron were permanently and incurably soiled by dirt, blood, and what Bébé really did not want to know, and yet he was concerned with getting brownie mix on his shirt.

Despite the rain, it seemed that the outdoor wedding was to proceed as planned, as Brian Boitano balanced himself on his skates just behind a podium. Meanwhile, guest from far and wide, some who Stan and Kyle recognized, began their congregation, some even finding their seats. The two Super Best Friends figured they should go take their places in a second or so. Kyle grabbed the vital piece of his Ushanka.

And so it was that Sheila, Cartman, Sharon, Randy, and Wendy went to accost Ike about where Stan and Kyle had gone off to. Mrs. Garrison, however, had fallen through the plot hole that had opened up, distracting the peanut gallery from wondering why Ike hadn't been questioned earlier. While she was there, she found the real Gerald, tied up with licorice strings. When the plot hole again opened up, they found themselves in Soho sipping tea with the Children of the Revolution, and wondering why there was a streetlamp in the middle of their flat, ignoring the randomly placed spiral staircase that lead absolutely nowhere.

In any case, Sheila and Wendy kicked down the door to Ike's room, where the brash young Canadian native was watching a live broadcast of Terrance and Phillip's surprise wedding. Before his mother had a chance to chastise him for watching television while grounded, he informed them that Kyle's and Stan's names had flashed across the screen in the televised playbill. Because Terrance and Phillip were the sort to include a playbill for their wedding.

So, Sharon, being the Cool One, went to go make some more coffee, and some popcorn. Wendy pulled out her cell phone and dialed Bébé's cell…

Bébé, who at that moment was savoring the awesome goodness that it Christophe's Madd Baking Skillz, and telling Kenny and Christophe that everything had gone according to plan, and Damien had asked Pip to move in with him and Pip had whole-heartedly agreed, and then did a disturbing giggle that was somehow both malicious and affectionate at the same time (to which Christophe reminded them that it _was_ always the quiet ones…), and now Kenny didn't have to hide out at Christophe's anymore and could go home.

"NO! I'm never leaving! Ever! I'm happy here! He feeds me!" Kenny just about wailed. Bébé tried very hard not to laugh as she and Christophe worked out a schedule for when they should trade off the BFF medallion.

That's when her cell phone rang, and Wendy told her to turn on the news, which they did.

"Thanks, Tom," Midget in a Bikini was saying, "We're live on the front lawn of international comedic superstars and Nobel Peace Prize Winners Terrance Henry Stoot and Phillip Niles Argyle, where in moments the ceremony for their wedding is about to begin, and everyone is dying to know; who is going to take whose last name? Here with me is their wedding planner, Big Gay Al…" but just as Big Gay Al dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief and was about to give a very enlightening, philosphical, and perhaps revolutionary comment on the natre of love, Christophe realized at that moment that he hadn't had one line yet, and did the only appropriate thing he could.

He burst out into the final line of "One Day More!", ending it with "Beetch!", and then took a long drag on his cigarette.


	11. Keeping it Surreal

A LAST MANDATORY LONG-ASS AUTHOR'S NOTE (for a while).

…Wow. It's over. Now the SEQUEL is over.

I don't think that I'm going to pick up with this story line again. As much as I loved writing this, and as honored as I am to know that I was able to bring some smiles, laughter, and good health (laughter can prevent heart attacks and help you live longer!), I think I did everything that there was to do along that vein.

Also, this will probably be my last contribution to the South Park fanfic aspect of the fandom for a while, because I have return to my _wonderful_ life as a high school senior taking way too many honors classes…plus senior project, plus electives, plus hobbies, plus life, plus that goddamn novel of mine.

I will, however, most likely come out with one-shots every so often, every break I get or so, so I'll still be here! Who knows-maybe I'll get a sudden burst of inspiration and crank out another chapter fic eventually.

I'll still be doing South Park art and maybe some comics on DA, though XD. Keep a watching!

I'm also putting together a portfolio site, with all of my current projects-yes, including my South Park stuff with bonus DVD…uh, fic commentary and notes. A preview of my novel will be available on there as well.

So, thank you to everyone who has read my stuff, and been so nice…I honestly did not expect any of what has happened. I love you all! Thank you. Just…thank you.

…I'm probably being overdramatic, but…I feel like a lot happened to me over the course of the summer, a lot has changed…directly and indirectly involved with this fic.

I love you all.

-Sid out.

Stan, after shooting one last offended glance to Sally for backing out at last minute, Big Gay Al for insisting and being so politely beseeching about it that he couldn't say no, and Kyle because Kyle was a jerk and looked incredibly too amused, turned and began a melodramatically sullen march down the aisle. Some hundred faces turned to watch, and it took every ounce of will-power and Big Gay Al prodding him in the back to make him stop pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering, and trudge forward, scattering a trail of saffron coloured petals as he went. He tried desperately not to make eye-contact.

Terrance and Phillip stood at the altar expectantly, or, more accurately, were hunched over clinging onto the altar to keep them from rolling around on the floor, laughing so hard they couldn't breathe, so of course no one else noticed. Brian Boitano beaming reassuringly at Stan was what kept him going.

Kyle knew he was in trouble when, as he began his own procession, carrying a bit of the dark green frontal piece of his Ushanka upon which two simple golden loops were perched, he gazed forward proudly, to see Stan grinning at him in an entirely too-happy way. Which only meant he was plotting something. Something evil. Thus he tried to drag his feet as much as he could.

But, inevitably he arrived at the altar, and was received with a shower of saffron petals as Stan dumped the remnants of the flowers from his basket over Kyle's head. Terrance and Phillip only laughed more.

Carefully setting the rings on Barky the dog, who was conveniently positioned just near him, Kyle took a handful of flower petals, and threw them back in Stan's face. Of course Stan retaliated, and shortly, what ensued was a full out fist and petal fight, so they found themselves rolling about the lawn in a circle of limbs, rented formal wear, and flower petals.

As if this was completely normal, the rest of the wedding party continued, ignoring the two, and proceeding as planned…although after every other line in Brian Boitano's sermon, Terrance and Phillip alternated farts, followed by a fifteen minute long intermission of shrill laughter from every Canadian and/or Terrance and Phillip fan present.

Just your average wedding, really.

The personalized wedding vows consisted of Terrance and Phillip doing a hyper-active interpretative dance to a midi-fied version of the timeless classic, "Yakety Sax", which morphed into the Canadian National Anthem, where every party member joined in, be they Canadian or not.

It ended quite well, with them boarding their private jet, heading for a honeymoon on, well, the moon. Stan and Kyle temporarily paused in their public display of affection, oh, sorry, "manly brawl", to wave along with the crowd as it departed.

"Well, boys, what are you going to do now?" Brian Boitano asked them.

"You're welcome to stay with my family. You two were both great contributions to the party, and you saved Terrance and Phillip, after all. I owe them, it was their advice that got me Celine, so technically since they owe you, I do too. Honor code." Ugly Bob voiced, just so he could be mentioned. Celine, meanwhile, was proudly displaying pictures of their daughter from the latest Beauty Pageant she had conquered.

Stan and Kyle considered it for a moment. They glanced towards Ugly Bob, they glanced toward Big Gay Al who was pretending not to be listening in and doing a very bad job, and then they glanced around at the scene, of "friendly faces everywhere" and camera crews, all having gathered to be part of Terrance and Phillip, and their celebration…of being able to say to the whole world that they loved each other enough to put up with all of the hard stuff. Or they didn't take it seriously enough to really think about it and when the eight year mark passed they decided what the hell and went with it, they'd been living together for so long anyway.

They stood up, and brushed each other off a bit, and then joined hands.

"I think its time for us to head home, face off. It's worth it." Stan said, although he was speaking more to Kyle, once again they were excluding themselves to the part where the _this_ existed, where no one else could penetrate.

"We want to be together. The only way we can really do that is to say, 'screw you!' to anyone who wouldn't like it." Kyle murmured in agreement.

"What are you gonna tell my parents?" Stan asked. Kyle considered for a moment, and bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Mr. and Mrs. Marsh? Your son and I have been have been Madly in Love TM and fucking like rabbits for quite some time and will continue to do so for quite some time, and let me tell you, he's a screamer." Kyle iterated. Stan punched his shoulder, in an entirely loving and goofy way.

They were just about to turn and gather the small amount of things they had brought with them to Canada, but within that instant, they found themselves in Mole's kitchen.

"Nice tuxes. You both scream ass-rammers." Mole commented, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette.

Precisely fifteen minutes ago, Bébé explained after Stan and Kyle had grabbed some brownie and had situated themselves at the table, Damien and Pip had taken off, but not before Damien had offered her a wish, out of gratitude. Much like Satan had done years ago. Given that she pretty much had everything she needed at the moment, she let Kenny have the wish.

Kenny, being the Good Samaritan that he was, had wished for Stan and Kyle to come back and confront their parents, and the said parents to be totally cool.

"You realize thats 'ow eet would end anyway, non?" Mole had asked.

"I know," Kenny had said, and then muttered a lot of incomprehensible gibberish that was most likely very sensitive and insightful comments, ended with, "But I realize that I have to do it, for the sake of all the fangirls in the world."

And so it was that Stan and Kyle did wind up confronting their parents. Sharon and Randy were only shocked that they had only been together as an "official" couple since prom night, having just assumed that they'd been flaming boyfriends for years. Any misgivings on Randy's part had eased with time, and seeing just how much the two truly cared for each other, and Sharon, being the Cool One, had been secretly rooting for them since she had first heard of their Super Best Friendship.

Gerald and Sheila were also cool, although Sheila warned that they had best not even _consider_ premarital or unprotected sex, to which both boys sheepishly nodded and averted their glances, and afterwards Sheila, teary eyed, dragged a thoroughly confused Kyle off to go look at paint swatches. He wound up deciding on saffron, which was only a shade or so off from the original colour, and clashed horribly with the forest green tile of the kitchen floor, and so, many years later when Sheila decided to throw an engagement party for Kyle and Stan (both of whom had no idea that they were actually engaged until that point), Kyle was once again dragged off to look at tile samples, so that Big Gay Al could enter the Broflovski's home without feeling sacrilegious.

But, in the present, things were most definitely looking up, and all but one string was left untied.

Cartman wound up getting sick of trying to get twenty dollars, and instead decided to extract vengeance upon Stan, because after all Prom Night's totally hot incineration inducing make-out session that had lost Cartman the twenty dollars had been initiated by Stan, by finding and destroying the most important article of Stan's belongings.

And so it was that one day, upon entering Stan's room, Kyle and Stan found Cartman laughing maliciously, and waving Stan's asthma inhaler about.

"I got it! I got your inhaler, Stan! Now whatcha gonna do? Nananana na na. Hahahaha ha ha!"

Stan stood there for a moment, and then decided that there was only one thing to do. He buried his head in Kyle's shoulder, and started to sob melodramatically.

Cartman wasted a second to confusion, and then started laughing again as Kyle incredulously wrapped his arms about his…Super Best Friend's shoulders, and patted him lightly, trying to comfort him.

"Cartman, why don't you just get lost?" Kyle hissed.

"No, wait, let me at least taste his tears, Kyle…"

"_NOW CARTMAN_!" Kyle screamed, with such an intensity that everyone on the planet heard him. Cartman stared at them uncomfortably for a second, laughed at them again, raised the inhaler victoriously above his head, and then turned and did a victory dance out of the door.

Once he had gone, Stan gazed up at Kyle.

"Ohh, no, what ever am I gonna do? Cartman stole something from me, leaving me with only my prescription and ability to…walk down to the pharmacy and get another one! Oh, no! Comfort me, Kyle!" Stan cried, as he tried to keep a straight face.

Kyle snickered, but as more than happy to oblige in "comforting" him, until he accidentally backed Stan up against a wall with such force that it knocked the wind out of him for a second, and then he logically decided that before they should go to the pharmacy and get Stan a new inhaler, before loving on each other any more.

Stan pouted for a bit, insisted that he would be fine and he definitely did not want to wait. Even for a second. He'd stopped waiting twelve chapters ago.

"Relax, we have all the time in the world," Kyle reminded him, "And besides, we're still spending it if we do it together. And how could I live with myself if I caused my boyfriend so much excitement that he asphyxiates, hm?"

Stan really couldn't argue with that logic, and so, hand in hand, they went to go and retrieve a new inhaler.

The only pause in their journey occurred when, halfway there, Stan excitedly exclaimed,

"Hey! You called me your boyfriend! We're boyfriends! Officially-officially now!"

And so they grinned at each other. Like crazy boyfriends. And Super Best Friends.

And that was that.


End file.
